


Bees

by bwblack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bees & Beekeeping, Fluff, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-06
Updated: 2011-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bwblack/pseuds/bwblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock explains his retirement plans to John.  A fluffy retirement fic. For the prompt:<a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5013.html?thread=15544725#t15544725"> Dr. Holmes and Mr. Watson </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bees

“Bees?” John asks incredulously. “You want to move to the country and raise bees?”

“Something is killing the bees, John.”

“You think the bees are being murdered?” John raised up on one elbow and turned towards his partner.

“Something is killing bees.” Sherlock shrugged.

“Do you plan to solve each death individually?” John smirked.

“Why did I marry you again?” Sherlock asked laughing.

“You couldn’t live without me, Mr. Watson.”

“Nor you me, Dr. Holmes.”

“True.” John sighed. “So we’re raising bees?”

“You’ll like them.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

“What evidence?” Sherlock frowned. Sure, John had never expressed an interest in beekeeping but the man took honey in his tea.

“Something…” John brought his lips down to his partner’s ear. “…is…” he whispered, brushing his lips against the tender skin under the lobe. “…killing…” He scraped his teeth over the soft, sensitive skin. “…them…”

Sherlock arched against his partner’s ministrations.

John brought his lips down to Sherlock’s collar bone and nuzzled his nose against the man’s impossibly long neck.

Sherlock tried to remember how to breathe as John’s hand’s slid down to his hips. “Oh John…” He growled, his voice low and deep.

“Twenty years.” John muttered into Sherlock’s skin .

“Twenty two.” Sherlock muttered.

“Twenty.” John retorted.

“Plus two.” Sherlock argued.

“You would think…” John looked up, smiling, Sherlock wondered how that grin remained so childlike, playful despite all the years, the lines, the graying hair. “Given…” John slid his hands over Sherlock’s hips and across his inner thighs, “my current position…” He dropped his head and let his tongue play over Sherlok’s sensitive navel. “You’d quit arguing semantics.”

“Never…” Sherlok’s voice strangled with desire, his right hand braced against the bed while his left stroked through John’s soft gray hair.

“That’s why I love you,” John’s laugh husky as his tongue traced a path down Sherlocks’ body.


End file.
